The Forsaken

That landmark corner of alley, 

those monolithic tablets

inscribed with royal memoirs,

became our very first playground. 

Oblivious to their noteworthiness, 

we disturbed 

those sacred stones

with our hoo-ha. 

And I guess,

whatever phantasm it is, 

that resides in those annals, 

enjoyed, when our tiny feet 

mauled that space, 

(a little ungraciously though) 

playing hide and seek, 

oonch neech ka papda, 

and countless rounds of box cricket. 

It kind of felt alive.

Awake. Cognizant. 

But now,

cloaked heavily in its silence, 

memorial stands forsaken.

The hubbub has faded.

And the specters shiver. 

Creepy, cold, lonely specters

in abandoned, forlorn cenotaphs.

Sounds so much like us.